


The Seduction of Ossë

by AnnEllspethRaven



Series: The Tale of Melkor and Ossë [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chance at redemption, Feeling Misunderstood, First Love, First Time, M/M, Rebellion, Seduction, Temptation, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnEllspethRaven/pseuds/AnnEllspethRaven
Summary: Arda was young, the Quendi had not yet awoken; only the Ainur were Eru's children that had gone forth. Everyone knows what Melkor and Ossë did, and many are quick to ascribe obvious motives to their choices. Let's not, shall we?
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Ossë
Series: The Tale of Melkor and Ossë [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882648
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22
Collections: Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2020





	The Seduction of Ossë

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ismene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene/gifts).



_“Ossë is a vassal of Ulmo, and he is master of the seas that wash the shores of Middle-earth. He does not go in the deeps, but loves the coasts and the isles, and rejoices in the winds of Manwë; for in storm he delights, and laughs amid the roaring of the waves. His spouse is Uinen…_

_Melkor hated the Sea, for he could not subdue it. It is said that in the making of Arda he endeavored to draw Ossë to his allegiance, promising him all the realm and power of Ulmo, if he would serve him.”_

-J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Silmarillion, The Valaquenta, Of the Maiar_

* * *

A lone dark figure stood atop a lone dark knoll and witnessed a most curious sight to interrupt his broodings – a deeply lovely creature in the form of both man and fish, thrashing wrathfully in the river below. The dark brows knitted together, considering. Clearly that unusual body shape had been chosen for its sheer practicality. And at the moment, the other being occupied in petulant chatter, he remained unobserved.

“Go not past the Great Gulf, the Lord Ulmo says. Go not to the Inland Sea, the Lord says. Go not here, go not there, the Lord says. Well Ossë has gone past the Great Gulf and the river has shown itself lovely, lovely, fair and clear...and methinks it runs too complacent in its bed! Ossë wants it to _tumble_ ,” he growled in mischief. Accelerating with his powerful tail, he raised his arms and commanded the river’s water to lift from its course, carrying him high aloft before a titanic splash crashed downward, flooding outward. The waters rose so high that they caused the tall observer to step backward – just a short distance, lest his boots take a soaking. Hapless fish flopped on the shores; creatures that wished to eat them crept seemingly from nowhere to take advantage of the sudden easy meal. A tenor voice whooped happy laughter, heedless of the pearls tangling in his long white hair.

This qualified as the most interesting sight the quiet sentinel had seen in the dim illumination of the distant Lamp. At least, the most interesting outside of the delving of his unfathomably mighty and labyrinthine fortress. Definitely, he deemed it worth his while to linger awhile longer.

* * *

A lone figure, rife with all the scintillating colors and powers of water splashed up the deep River Lhûn frolicking, doing whatever pleased him, and paused midstream because he had espied a most curious sight – a stately figure tall and berobed in deep charcoals, rich midnight hair flowing down in unbound waves. The rich garb with little ornament and strange design did not look like anything Ossë knew. Geometric shapes. One did not often encounter anyone at all, hither or thither; and here was quite close to nowhere at all (in his estimation). The Maia could only discern that this was not one who belonged to Lord Ulmo for those who dwelled in the water all knew each other. Certainly all knew _him_ , among the mighty in their Master’s service. To his surprise the other figure moved, approaching. He swam nearer the shore as well; there were many wide flat rocks tumbled into the stream in this place though he did not wholly move out of deep water just yet.

The other walked with very long, assured strides, Ossë soon saw, and the light of his eyes glowed with greater brilliance. Not just anyone but a Lord, he guessed, one of the Powers though which he was not certain. 

When the figure stepped onto one of the rocks, he revealed a face exceedingly beautiful and spoke with a voice of one used to command. “Please approach nearer, Ossë, so my desire to meet you might find satisfaction. I am called Melkor.” 

How pleasant, to be asked so graciously and with a musical voice! Self-assured and seeing no reason to be churlish, Ossë complied, placing his hand in the one offered. 

Melkor’s expression grew unreadable, as if he had expected anything but the open trust shown. “Do you take other form?” Melkor asked, still holding Ossë’s hand. Maybe ‘holding’ was not the best word. ‘Cradling,’ perhaps, for Melkor had seen the mother of pearl iridescence of his skin and felt loath to release him.

“Unlike my own? A form like yours, that walks on land? Only with great difficulty, needing all my thought bent upon it. I am often reminded by my Lord that I must gain skill not only for deeds that are pleasing to me.” At first Ossë’s jewel-toned eyes glittered, but then dulled.

A lovely smile crossed the Vala’s face, revealing even white teeth. “A moment, please.” He released Ossë’s hand without explanation, causing him to fall back slightly in the water for Melkor had been lifting him. Elegant fingers pulled at his black boots and set them aside; the cloth covering his lower legs he raised past the knees to reveal skin that could have been of olive complexion; under Varda’s starlight the colors of anything without a strong source of light remained uncertain. Melkor seated himself, his lower legs in the water that ran cold (but not intolerably so) and extended his hand once more. “Would you oblige me a second time?”

Surprised, Ossë returned his hand, liking the grasp. 

Melkor held him near, close to his legs, which the water spirit could not help staring at with curiosity. “Legs, a body such as this, is not usual?” the Vala asked, a deep golden light lived behind his eyes.

“Nay. Not usual.”

“You may touch me,” Melkor said quietly. “I would not have you wonder at this form many chose.”

“Many?” Ossë seemed genuinely puzzled, drawing tentative fingers along Melkor’s skin under the water. The shape of the ankle, foot and toes pleased his perception and he immediately became taken with his explorations of these new objects. But the Maia was strong and dexterous, and soon Melkor stifled a groan of enjoyment from the inadvertent massage of his foot and leg. Beryl-lit eyes gazed up with an unspoken question.

“Your hands give bliss,” the explanation came slowly. “I issued the invitation that you might understand, but did not expect…”

“That you would feel? Has none ever…?” Ossë’s query halted mid-sentence; something between warning and longing burned behind Melkor’s eyes before diminishing and Ossë turned his face aside. Regret was an unfamiliar emotion but the water-spirit felt it now, for he had sincerely not meant to offend. 

Only lightning reflexes on Melkor’s part kept Ossë in place, for he had indeed been about to withdraw on account of his mistake. A powerful grasp held his waist, drawing him upward between knees that parted to make more room and bring him near. “Do not leave me!” 

Melkor seemed as startled to have spoken such a sentiment as Ossë was to hear it.

“But...I belong to water and you to...something other,” Ossë said carefully, though he in no way resisted being held. Truthfully he relished this, though he lacked the words to explain why. The hands that grasped him coveted him desperately, that much he could sense, and that was new. Being wanted so much...he liked this and wished for more.

“Yet water and something else still press together,” Melkor replied, bracing Ossë’s tail with his lower legs and pulling him closer. “I could be in the water, though I too am accustomed to this form.Yet I cannot swim with such grace as you.”

Startled, Ossë stilled in the partial embrace. Never had he been confined in any manner nor physically restrained. Not even Ulmo had done so, for all his power – and truly he would have been the only one capable – until now. He could push away with that tail; Ossë possessed terrifying strength but that did not still the creeping awareness that might greater than his own encircled him. With incremental slowness, Melkor allowed Ossë to slip through his legs, somewhat mesmerized by the sensation.

“You cannot, dressed as you are,” Ossë countered, aware that in moments he would be returned to the water – and now that he felt assured he was not being captured, he liked what was being done to him, “Lord,” he added softly. “For you are a Lord, are you not?” Hesitantly, finely shaped fingers reached and touched the edges of his clothing. “Unless wet garments are acceptable to you.”

“Then perhaps you would act as my valet. For yes, I am a Lord. Yet–” 

The confusion in Ossë’s eyes read as an open book; the word ‘valet’ held no meaning to him. 

One hand transferred to hold the Maia nearer still while the other brought Ossë’s yielding hand to the closures of his robes. “A valet assists another, usually one of greater station, to dress and undress. Yet I do not want there to be such disparity between us. When I watched you...free...for that is why you came here, is it not? To feel free? That…” 

Removing clothing, this also the water-spirit did not know how to do but he did not lack intelligence, and puzzled it out. Eventually he was rewarded by an exposed chest, but there were arms and seams and…

“Push the fabric up away from my shoulders,” Melkor instructed, gripped by the sensations within him when those pale hands ghosted across his chest, cooler skin over warm. “Up and back.” The caress supplied completed the motion, so simple yet entrancing.

“Touching you feels pleasing,” Ossë tried, seeking words. “You are warm. And smooth.” 

“Free my hands,” Melkor instructed in a soft voice he did not know he possessed, offering first one then the other while he continued to hold Ossë’s waist.

The attempt was made, but simplicity turned complex. Flustered, Ossë tugged harder at the fabric that would not cooperate while Melkor watched with an air of mild amusement. Pulling far too vigorously for the circumstance finally released the sleeve all at once, sending Ossë against Melkor’s chest.

Flushed, the Maia tried to salvage some dignity. “I did not know, that serving as valet required special skill.”

“Some,” Melkor murmured. “Thy skin is cool.”

“Ai! Your skin warms more.”

“The other sleeve?”

The second fared better than the first and the trousers were simpler yet though care had to be taken to keep them from the water.

“Yes,” Ossë mused, holding the long legs gently. “That is the form I sometimes took. To walk, long ago, on land.”

Melkor studied him for a moment, considering. “Would you take me in the water with you?”

The pale head tilted, echoing what he had been told earlier: “You are able to swim?”

“After a fashion. But swimming alone I would feel not your skin against mine own, nor have I the form that grants you such speed through the water.”

“You cannot change, become as I am?”

Almost Melkor became irritated until he saw the innocent curiosity in those bejeweled eyes.“No longer. I can help you to be as I am with greater ease, but no more.” An ironic truth, but a truth nevertheless. He could not explain to himself why, but he had no wish to deceive Ossë.

At the word ‘skin’ the silvery lips parted with an unexpected hunger. He had been matched with a mate; their purposes as servants aligned but they were made for their labors in and with water; not to experience...this. Whatever _this_ was, for he had tasted but the merest tantalizing drops from what might be a brimming cup. He and his wife were intended to temper each other’s attributes. He respected Uinen, acknowledged the strength of her gifts but there was hardly a sense of passion – not that either of them knew that word. With Melkor, though, the pleasure of these few instances of contact between them ran as veins of fire.

Amidst his hatreds and dark designs, Melkor had wished for a means to master the waters and here was an opportunity; Ossë desired freedoms. At the moment, both inexplicably abandoned their respective interests in favor of a far more primal calling: To touch, and be touched.

Still held at the waist, Ossë reached forward to Melkor’s shoulders, smoothing his hands there; the skin ran silken under his palms and fingers.

“Please, more.” The dark head leaned over until one cheek nuzzled against Ossë’s arm. 

On hearing those words, Ossë instinctively sought to gather Melkor toward him and to his surprise the other body yielded wholly; in a moment they held each other closely with only the bracing of Ossë’s tail and a little of Melkor’s buttocks still perched on the rock keeping them from tipping wholly into the water. A little laugh came from Melkor, when he felt Ossë’s arms encircle his back and fingers weaving into his hair.

“What amuses you?” This Ossë spoke quietly into the shapely ear while his cheek nuzzled against that of his new companion. Little moans of delight escaped both of them at the onslaught of new sensation; a soft gasp followed Ossë’s query when Melkor’s hands found the back of his neck; he now was held between the powerful forearms and chest covered with warm, radiant skin.

“That you can embrace me as youdo, while I must contend with your fin!”

“I…” Ossë flushed, uncertain how to respond. “Alas…”

“You art beautiful, Ossë,” Melkor’s voice dropped. “Only someone blinded could think otherwise.” His hand worked up into the silver hair until his thumb could caress along the elegant jaw. “I very much want to kiss you.”

The beryl eyes lowered, and he held silent for a long moment. “I am in your power and cannot stop you. I confess that I do know who you are, Lord.”

The reply waited equally long. “No, you cannot stop me; I did not take you for a fool.” Melkor looked away. “I know how I must seem. Maybe you know how you must _also_ seem, Ossë. I would hear your heart’s expression, if you wouldst grant me the same. I could have you by my might but I will not. Accept me out of your own desire, or do not. You came here seeking freedom and I will not be your captor.”

“My Master told us you would seize any who went near to you.”

“Such a surprise,” Melkor replied acidly, sighing in sheer frustration. Frustration because that warning would be correct, any other occasion but now. Eyes closed, he leaned his forehead gently against Ossë’s.

Discomfited at so many inconsistencies, the silvery head raised. He saw that a single tear streaked down from the corner of Melkor’s eye and felt struck to his core. “Did my Lord say something untruthful?” Ossë’s voice trembled.

Melkor rubbed at his face with one hand. “Your Lord spoke the truth as he believes it to be,” came the bitter answer. “When you were admonished thus, why? Why did you come near?”

“Because…” fear took hold of him and now his frame shook as well, silencing his reply.

“Please!” Melkor said through obvious distress. “Tell me! Shall I beg you, Ossë, as proof of my heart? For I am willing.”

“No, Lord! Though your words do move me. I came because I saw you alone, fair of face and form and felt drawn. You were not as I remembered you before we all descended to Arda. You were not as they spoke of you and I felt you must be someone other until you gave your name.”

“You dost not wish for power over me? To see me subservient to you?” Melkor pressed. “No other has been offered this, Ossë.”

“Ossë is untamed. Wild, capricious. He does not know how to desire power. But you hungered to kiss him and he submits himself to you. Teach him, and he will know how to ask for your submission in turn.”

The deep golden light flared a little more behind Melkor’s eyes and his mouth descended, savoring the first contact. To the end of his tail, the Maia’s body enervated with a powerful yearning for more; this was _very_ good and a deep moan tore from him. 

“I thank you,” Melkor whispered, similarly affected. One hand again in the silvery hair, a careful tongue sought entrance into Ossë’s mouth. Melkor hardly had any more experience; only greater boldness and an unerring instinct for the function of Eru’s creations. Now, here, he had occasion to turn that proclivity toward discovering pleasure and Ossë yielded, parting his lips. What began as tender became increasingly frantic; strange sensations of want burned in both of them.

Melkor’s male organ had swollen, become engorged, and Ossë’s firm flesh writhing against him made sweet torment. He had seen the creatures of Arda, watched them couple; he could guess what his body ached to do but how? 

Melkor adjusted to lift Ossë a little further out of the water so a searching hand might explore further down the sleek body...yes, here was an entrance, but would it suffice? Fingers delicately circled the opening, probing and testing the seal of flesh. “How findest thou my touch, here?”

“Strange, Lord; neither fair nor ill.”

“And now?” The fingers continued their work, but his power had gone out, subtly altering.

“Now a warmth of sorts; ‘tis decidedly good.”

“What say you to this?”

Ossë trembled. “A deep longing. The same as how my mouth now wants yours delving it. Like...there needs be relief, though from what I do not know.”

“And if I do this?” Very gently, Melkor slipped one finger past the sealing muscle whose strength he had been testing, gaining entrance. As guessed, it was the same as the place from which he also eliminated, only adapted to this unique form Ossë had chosen or been given. Slowly, he rubbed that finger along the edges of the flesh and earned a cry of pleasure.

“Now I beg in turn, give more. What do I give you, Lord? How do I cause you to feel the same?”

Melkor paused. Ossë complied too willingly. That was the difficulty; he was no longer certain of what he wanted at all. The moment he saw the coveted servant of Ulmo, his hatreds vanished – or at the very least momentarily found themselves banished. This was something new, precious and fragile. An opportunity he sensed would never come again, and this one time he did not simply want to break it in derision. No, he would set everything aside, to see what might come of this. 

“I wish to touch you more. But this place, on your body…” grasping Ossë’s hand, he brought it to his own genitals. “My flesh here burns in the same manner. If we join our flesh together, it will be like the kissing but to a far greater measure.”

“As do the dolphins,” Ossë said slowly with obvious reluctance, but recognition. “They have such play. Male with female, male with male…”

“I wish to join the flesh of my body that grants pleasure to the flesh of your body capable of experiencing the same. Male and female have no meaning between us,” Melkor answered patiently. “Were you in the same form as I, still one of us would need to offer the same flesh to couple, and experience this ecstasy. I did not create flesh,” he added with only a hint of annoyance in his voice. “But I have studied what it can do, and feel.”

Looking downward, Ossë regarded the swollen penis that pulsed with arousal, and the heavy sac beneath. Experimentally he felt them, caressed, noting that such small touches affected Melkor considerably. Melkor, who returned to kissing him again, and drawing his fingers again and again over his entrance that now ached to have something within. Squirming to bring those fingers barely inside increased his torment; his flesh yearned to be stroked. Taken. What little reservation remained crumbled. “Have me,” he voiced between kisses while he also smoothed his hand over the hard arousal in a manner he hoped was enjoyable. Favorable sounds were produced in time to his ministrations. 

Melkor lifted him higher. “Guide me inside of you,” he asked. Neither knew what they were doing, only that this was what they needed to do. Uncertain, wanting, eager but lacking experience, Ossë complied. Both received more than they counted on, for Melkor lost his tenuous perch on the edge of the rock, tumbling onto and into Ossë, head downwards into the cold river all in the same moment. The breathtakingly intense pleasure of sudden penetration merged with the shock of plummeting downward into the cold depth. Disoriented, he believed Ossë would care for him and held on.

The water spirit had been swiftly pierced and screamed, twisting in abject pain when he had anticipated something different. The first moments of this torment abolished all other considerations; together they corkscrewed downward. He knew that Melkor’s body was the cause and could so easily have cast him off but he did not; something was wrong and then his mind cleared. _Melkor cannot breathe_. Beating his powerful tail, he raised Melkor to the surface, keeping him in place and using his body as a floating table. 

It was simple enough in the form of a man to straddle Ossë and while he gasped and coughed to clear the water from his airway, he trembled. 

At once Ossë spoke. “You are safe. There is air now.”

“I heard thee cry out,” Melkor remembered, knowing for the first time care and a debt of gratitude. “I was the cause?”

“Yes. The joining pained me but now is much diminished.”

“I had not intended what happened,” Melkor told him honestly, knowing that the water spirit might have chosen any number of actions. He was not trusted by the other Valar, and had Ossë been sent as foe...drowning could not truly kill him but it could destroy the body in which he clothed himself. And here was one of the very few Maiar with the capacity; master of an element he himself could not tame. “I will make amends for our misfortune.” Ossë smiled, his eyes closed, and his arms wrapped around the body embedded in his flesh. The pair drifted with ease in the current; the body underneath Melkor’s was his to use. “Swim against the river. Slowly. In this position.”

The motion changed his penetration and allowed Melkor a purchase with his thighs as he sought the best angle. Every touch was gentle or firm; the flesh under him he rewarded with caresses, kisses, lavish attention. All the while his organ pulsed inside. 

Now that his virgin body had adjusted, these small twitches built grievous desire. Slowly Ossë discovered the insensibility of lust. Returning a kiss where he could, mostly he was powerless under Melkor’s mastery, an agony of bliss. Proud Ossë pleaded for relief: “Give me relief, please! This yearning is not less torment than the pain!”

Together they washed up to an islet of softest sand, where at last Meklor had the perfect bed. Some of his lover lay in the water, some on land. Melkor ravished him as though he had only just begun the process. Soon measured thrusts tore sensations from Ossë’s flesh never hinted at as even remote possibilities with Uinen. When he reached his uttermost limit, Melkor’s loins burst. Unparalleled power surged inside Ossë; so used to the beloved storms of Manwë was he but this was different. The essence of the Lord ran through him, and still Melkor strained for he had not spent his full pleasure. 

Enervated, the water spirit writhed again this time from an excess of bliss. Nothing, nothing had ever felt like this. A storm of Manwë surged yet in his mind and body and he was wholly and utterly helpless against the pleasure consuming him.

Melkor shrieked a dark and triumphant cry and rose, bearing Ossë in his arms as their bodies disconnected. The Maia was held as something precious. Uncomprehending, Ossë felt tired, so wonderfully weary when he had never known weariness before. Melkor’s hand passed over his face as he sank into sleep. A tender kiss was bestowed. The river here was shallow, and he crossed, naked, bearing his lover under the star-shocked sky.

* * *

Ossë woke alone, struggling to understand. He rested in a shallow pool, a small inlet of the river and he had been carefully tended to. Mossy rocks of surpassing softness supported his head; for rest he had been left in this sheltered place. Little seemed different, but bound to his hand like a strange token was the one ornament Melkor had worn on this clothing. In his hazy thought it acted both as irrefutable evidence the encounter had not been a vision and...an invitation? Invitation to...what exactly? He rubbed at his eyes and rolled onto his stomach, which growled mightily for lack of food. Groaning, he realized he would need to catch fishes to eat if he wished to do anything about his current lack, but just a few more moments, to return to his senses. That was when he espied the basket, that appeared to contain food. Fruits, clusters of grapes hung over the side, and what...he remembered the feasts he attended. Cheese, they had named it, and meats. Sweet roots from the earth, and were those...berries. But they were on the rocks, out of his reach.

 _Not out of my reach with legs_ , he understood, wondering if this was meant as a test. Did the Lord Melkor wish this from him? That he would also walk on the land? 

Ossë frowned. He did not like legs. But he recalled how Melkor had spoken to him. Touched him, caused his flesh to feel, to burn with pleasure. Even now he trembled at the memory, gazing at the little object he had been given. Swiftly deciding, he placed the cord around his neck and wore it as a pendant so he could not lose it. For Melkor, he wanted to try. So he recalled how he once closed his eyes, and concentrated with all his might, willing himself to take other shape; to project his spirit into a different form of flesh. With far greater ease than he recalled, two legs wove drunkenly underneath him while he labored to master them, steadying himself on the rocks. Not knowing how long his success might last, he swiftly scrambled and tottered to retrieve his prize in case his effort failed. Tempted to switch back, he nevertheless forced himself to remain this way while he ate the food; the delicacies of land. He did not need all to satisfy his hunger, so the rest was neatly returned to the basket that this time was placed in reach of either version of himself and considered the riverbank.

This place seemed pleasant, and he could not recall having seen this place before. There were trees, and an easy path seemed to follow along, not far from the river’s edge. His powers were extensive, should even the worst happen he had the means to move himself back to the water on the strength of his arms or have the water come to him. What harm could there be from trying some more, to use these legs? Was it what Melkor wished of him? He regarded himself more carefully, now that he no longer hungered. Legs were not all he had. Laughing a little to himself, he smiled and determined to move along, when the signals scrambled. His mind was, after all, very used to moving a fin, not these two jointed sticks. Falling, he expected to collide with the ground (well aware it would not feel nice at all by comparison to the water) but never went so far; two powerful arms snatched him back upright.

“Lord Melkor!” The exclamation poured from Ossë’s lips with such obvious joy and excitement while he wriggled to turn in his arms. “You are here!”

Never had anyone been glad to see Melkor and there was no question, the beryl eyes gleamed with eager happiness. 

“Thank you for the meal, for it must have been you! For placing me somewhere soft to rest…” Ossë studied the amber eyes that simply devoured him and now he averted his gaze, feeling almost shy under the intensity of the examination. “For the pleasure you gave. I sincerely hope that I pleased you in turn.”

“What would you say were I to tell you that I was pleased but that it was not pleasure enough?”

Flushing across his chest at even the possibility of more, Ossë writhed in what would be the beginnings of a backflip were he in the water – but stopped himself in time. Still, his cheeks colored for his mistake. “That I would be eager, Lord.”

“I can see that,” Melkor smiled. “Just as I can see that you are trying to walk as I do.”

“‘Tis harder than I remember!” 

“And if I release you,” Melkor said softly, ensuring Ossë was steady, backing away a little, “and ask you to come to me?”

Surprise came into the Maia’s face, but then a gleam of devilry. “What will Ossë earn in return, generous Lord?” he asked with daring but deference.

And Melkor’s eyebrows lifted. Slowly he walked around Ossë, considering, until the corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked grin. He whispered into the pale ear even though no one was near to hear save the fish.

“Ohhhhhh….” Inflamed, Ossë felt blood rush to his groin, and gasped from the sensation. Almost his knees buckled again. 

“Concentrate!” Melkor encouraged, admiring what he saw – and backing away slowly. “I know you are able, my great beauty. Come to me. Only a short distance.” A place with soft grasses was chosen, with the Vala retreating and coaxing along the way until at last Ossë had succeeded. His legs shook with the effort of the strange motions so long ago dismissed but unexpectedly Melkor knelt in front of him, holding his entire lower body in a tight embrace. All of his weight was supported and balanced, never mind that each hand with those well-formed fingers anchored his hips and kneaded at the globes of his buttocks and this was strangely appealing. “Mmmm I am well-pleased and very disposed to be generous,” he purred. “You did not stumble. Not once.”

“I tried very hard, Lord.” Ossë’s voice had become uncharacteristically earnest. “I wished to please you. Very much.”

“Why, when you have your own Lord?” Melkor mused, gently massaging the legs he held up, occasionally brushing his hand softly across Ossë’s male parts. As the organ continued to swell, it was paid increasing attention and the Maia groaned from the pleasure.

“B-because you speak to me as though I am desirable to you. I am created to serve but how much fairer the service when I feel understood and appreciated.”

Melkor considered this, while bringing Ossë into his mouth to taste him, giving himself the experience of controlling another’s enjoyment in this manner. He earned a torrent of response by way of vocalizations; the legs trembled and became wholly unstable. Now he was guided, given precious regard and lowered to his knees, devoured with kisses until his assailant broke away with a satisfied air. “You are appreciated, Ossë I believe I understand. When you speak, your words evoke similar feelings for I too desire to feel seen. Acknowledged, and as though someone can comprehend my thought. I often feel as though no one has ever truly heard me, listened to my ideas, but that I am swiftly dismissed and told I am wrong without a real hearing. I would not mind if just once I had felt anyone had really _listened_.”

“Yes!” Ossë whispered. “That, exactly!” Love and lust rose in his eyes, embers catching fire.

Leaning back, Melkor invited him forward, raising his knees. “Do you desire me, as I desire you?”

Astonished, Ossë stared. The entrance glistened, already prepared with some manner of unguent and the sight caused him to ache. “You would...a Lord, you would permit a lesser one to…”

Languidly the Vala gazed back, his eyes heavily lidded. “You are not lesser in my sight, Ossë. You, who commands the water as I cannot. You, I would invite to my side. Your vision is greater than the one you name Lord, to my thinking, but those are other matters. Here there is only you, and I, and a promise of bliss. If, that is, you count me worthy of you.”

Every word was carefully chosen foreplay, seduction though not spoken with guile. A vision of the future, a possibility, danced in Melkor’s mind and the moment waited pregnant with potential. Some of what was said caused Ossë discomfort, but most inflamed him. His swollen organ ached to bury itself in the tight flesh. “I want you,” the Maia admitted. “I would listen to you and love you for the same in return.”

“It will be exactly as you say. Come, Ossë. Hunger dances in your eyes. You are wild, free. When first I saw you, by your will the river lifted from its bed and crashed down. Surely some of that same passion is here, now? Why do you hesitate and restrain yourself?”

Ossë throbbed, could stand no more. Pouncing forward he took enough time to align himself but then remembered the pain of sudden penetration. With a cry of longing he pressed forward very gently, seeking kisses and to caress the peerless flesh beneath him.

“Still I wait,” Melkor writhed underneath him, seeking to be taken.

In frustration Ossë pushed in a tiny bit but held back. “Can you not see I fear to hurt you? I do not want you to feel...feel…”

“What you did,” Melkor finished for him, holding his face. “You will not,” he nuzzled. “I have readied myself for you.” A gaze that had rarely known softness regarded his lover in wonder. He did not want to speak it aloud because this did not have to do with Ossë but...had anyone ever said they cared how he felt, or if he hurt?

All hindrances removed, Ossë melted into his lover’s arms and body. Lost in the bliss of this experience, unwittingly the water-spirit formed a heavy dew on their bodies such that each droplet sparkled and reflected the starlight. Melkor found the sight of this disquieting and closed his eyes against it, preferring to think only on the tempo being set in his core. It turned out that wily Ossë did not only master water for actions great, impressive, and destructive. No, water could trickle, flow, tease, drip, spritz, and a certain parts of him discovered these truths until he begged for release from nets he had not known existed. At the end Melkor was taken hard until the final few seconds. Then Ossë held him as the most cherished possession, kissing him deeply, longingly, each stroke delivering a feather-wisp of added pleasure to the built-up mountain of careful attention already bestowed upon him...and Melkor burst. Shuddering, weeping, vulnerable, the door of Melkor’s heart opened. Ossë rode the crest with him while his lover’s generous seed coated his belly, writhing from their tempest.

The lesser spirit collapsed in spent passion; he could not help himself in those brief few moments of strange enervation. Melkor easily captured Ossë’s wrists and held them together against his chest with one hand. “I have you,” the Vala observed, sitting up in one fluid motion. Because of the temporary numbing, Ossë’s posture seemed especially subservient. Concerned, not intending this, he helped his lover but at the same time struck an even greater pose of unintentional domination.

Gazing upwards into the boundless strength turned to tenderness on account of him, everything untethered. Had Melkor tried to take anything by force, clever, petulant and sometimes fierce Ossë had the resources to flee. For a fleeting moment he considered Ulmo. Deep voiced, ever-righteous and also seemingly never pleased. Was he not better off loved, and understood? His heart beat faster at what he meant to do; he was not certain it could be done? Yet if what he offered was accepted… “You do have me,” Ossë spoke clearly. “I pledge my love and my service to you as my Lord, if you will have me. For if you will not then I am yet bound to another Master.”

Dumbfounded, Melkor stared. What was wanted, and what was not wanted. “I will accept on one condition. That we find a means for you to be my lover first and my vassal some distant second. I have servants, and you are not to be as they are. I have found something with you I have found nowhere else and I wish to preserve it.”

Ossë nodded. “I consent.”

“Then I name myself your Lord, Ossë.”

It felt like falling, falling toward a great Fate. “What is it that you have found, _my_ Lord?” He whispered the reverence with extra relish.

Leaning down, Melkor’s lips danced above Ossë’s; one last thought before he sealed them together: “I do not think I alone have found it – _Seduction_.” 


End file.
